Seven Afternoons at the Market: One Small Buy and One Hello

When did you last say anything to a shopkeeper other than "how much" and "thank you"?

I tried to remember and could not. That Wednesday, ten past five in the afternoon, I stood at the top of the market in our alley with a cloth bag in my hand. I do freelance bookkeeping from home, so my days are a lit screen and a closed door, and the only sound is the fan. Two days running, I worked out, the longest sentence I had spoken aloud was "yes, may I have a receipt, please" to a delivery man.

The smell of morning glory freshly cut, the smell of fish on cold ice, the loudspeaker of a clam seller's cart rolling past and repeating the same line. The market was noisy and crowded, and still I felt I was standing outside all of it, like standing outside a lit window.

This is the seven afternoons I practised, one small task each, at that same market. It is not a friendship programme. It is seven things to try, and you can drop out at any point.

It is not a way to make acquaintances at all costs, and no stallholder in here has to become your friend. Nor is it a test of whether you can "communicate". Do not score yourself on these seven days, because there is no scale.

Why one market stall, and why only seven days?

The easiest thought is: I feel empty because I lack friends, so go find friends. It sounds reasonable, and it leads to advice like "sign up for a class" or "join an interest group". For many people those are very good. But for me, that week, they sounded like a second job: show up, introduce yourself, be liked.

What sits underneath is different. What I lacked was not exactly a friend but small exchanges with no reason behind them: a "how many do you want" anyone can answer, a nod from someone who has seen my face three times. Those exchanges ask me to tell nothing and to be close to no one, and that is exactly why they are light. Many people who live alone for long stretches slowly lose this kind of exchange, and since no one names it, no one remembers to look for it.

A market is the nearest place that still has it. No appointment, no good timing needed, say one sentence and walk on. And seven days, because I wanted a stretch short enough that I did not have to promise myself anything, and long enough that on Tuesday, feeling shy, I knew tomorrow was still there.

The rules are only three lines. The first day is very easy, the fourth is almost nothing, and if you miss a day you just come back, without making it up. Gently, no hurry. Keep that in mind and go.

Below is each day, enough to follow without guessing.

Seven afternoons, one day at a time

Day one: one round, buy nothing

At five I walked one beat slower than everyone else in the market. No phone, the cloth bag tucked under my arm. The only job for today: look. I counted three colours my eyes caught, one price I had not expected, and one sales call that sounded familiar.

Time: five minutes, ten if you like. You know you did it right when your feet stopped at least once in front of a stall without any plan to buy. The first time, many people feel a little awkward, as if strolling through a market were strange. Nobody noticed me, and on reflection that was lighter than I had expected.

On a busy day: stand at the market gate for one minute and go home, that counts.

A slip shows up even today: I started pushing myself with "just buy something and be done". Do not. Today you do not have to buy, and if you do, you have already slipped into day two.

Day two: buy one small thing, look at the seller

Choose any stall and buy something cheap and small: a bunch of spring onions, two chillies, a knob of ginger. The task today is not the sentence but the moment of handing over money: look up at the seller's face for exactly one second, and only then say "thank you".

I bought two limes from an elderly woman's stall. She put them into a plastic bag, her hand trembling a little, and asked:

"Want a pinch of herbs too? I'll throw it in."

"No, thank you, just the two limes."

"Mm. Just you at home, dear?"

I stalled for a moment. That was all, but I thought about that question all evening, not sadly, more as if someone had seen me without my needing to explain. Another day a different seller may ask you the same thing and it may feel intrusive. Both reactions are normal.

Time: under a minute at the stall. You know you did it right when you can remember the colour of the seller's eyes or the sound of their voice, even slightly. On a busy day: just buy, and remember to look for one second.

People tend to spoil today by preparing a perfect line for the seller in advance. It sounds like effort, but it turns one second of looking into a performance, and you worry about the line more than the person in front of you.

Day three: back to yesterday's stall

Today I went back to the lime woman's stall. I bought something different: a handful of herbs, because she had offered yesterday and I had turned them down. Holding the bag of leaves, I walked slowly out of the market.

She looked at me for a while and said "oh, you from yesterday?". You may meet a seller who recognises you straight away. You may also meet one who remembers nothing and looks at you as a stranger for the first time. Both are fine.

That week I had forgotten to bring small change and stood digging through my bag in front of her, red to the ears. She laughed and said "pay me tomorrow, it's fine". I did not wait for tomorrow, I ran to the next stall to break a note.

Time: five minutes. You know you did it right when you went back to the same stall, even if only because it was close to the gate. On a busy day: stop by for one small thing and go.

Today's mistake is different from yesterday's. Yesterday people worry about what to say. Today people tend to hope to be recognised, and feel let down at home when the seller did not remember them. If you feel let down, you did nothing wrong. Just note it as "today I hoped to be remembered", and go to sleep.

Day four: a light day

Today you do not have to say anything, nor buy anything. If you go, stand in one corner of the market for two minutes and listen: a knife chopping on a wooden board, someone haggling, trolley wheels clattering. If you do not go, just stay home and open the window to hear the alley at the start of the afternoon.

Time: two minutes. You know you did it right when you hear one sound you had not noticed before. This day is deliberately light so that you do not run dry in the middle of the week, because I once ran dry on exactly day four and dropped the whole week.

Feeling guilty about resting and making up for it with two rounds of the market is how this day gets spoiled. Do not make up. A rest taken on purpose is part of the exercise.

Day five: ask one small question about the goods

Today I stood in front of the fish stall and asked a seller I did not know: "excuse me, are these better for braising or frying?" A real question, one I truly did not know the answer to.

The fish seller answered without stopping her hands, wiping her knife and telling me which fish had more flesh and which had softer bones. I listened, nodded, and remembered only half. I bought one, took it home and fried it burnt on one side. That burnt side made me laugh out loud alone in the kitchen.

Time: three minutes. You know you did it right when you got an answer, whether or not you follow it. On a busy day: ask one question, listen to the end, go.

And there is a kind of question asked just for show: asking something you already know the answer to, just to have something to say. Sellers usually sense it, and so do you, and the exchange drops a notch. Ask what you genuinely do not know.

Day six: one sentence with nothing to buy in it

Today was the hardest for me. I had finished buying, I was holding the bag, I had turned my back. Then I stopped, turned to the lime woman and said: "the sun is fierce today, isn't it".

"Mm, it's been like this since morning. But you're not wearing a hat, careful or you'll get a headache."

"Yes, I forgot."

That was all. Three lines. I walked out of the market with a feeling hard to name, not happy, not sad, more like having set a small object on a table and watching it stand.

Time: one minute. You know you did it right when you said one sentence that had no price in it. If you are not ready today, a greeting is enough, no one is counting.

The easiest place to lose your way today is right after that sentence, when "right, tomorrow I'll invite her for coffee" appears in your head. This is where many people turn a small thing into a mission to become close, and when the other person does not answer the way they hoped, they decide the whole week failed. This article has promised you nothing, and the seller owes you nothing either.

Day seven: take it home, eat, write three lines

I made a sour soup with the limes and the handful of herbs and ate it alone, and the meal felt a little different. Not tastier. Just that the food had a few people in it whom I had looked at.

Then I wrote three lines, not necessarily good ones: which days were easy, which were stiff, and, if I wanted to keep one of these seven tasks next week, which one. You may want to keep all seven. You may want to drop them all and keep only walking to the market for no reason. Both are right.

If some day you feel you would rather be alone than go to the market, look at drinking tea alone, another way to be with yourself without running away anywhere.

If you tried and it did not work

This happens, and it does not mean the exercise failed.

The first common reason: your market is too hurried. The sellers have no time, the queue is long, every question sounds like a nuisance. Try another hour; quiet times like early afternoon are usually easier, or switch to a small corner shop near home where the owner has more time.

The second common reason: you felt stiff, and came home feeling emptier than when you left. That is a real reaction. Some people try it and find the market sharpens their sense of the empty space instead of filling it. If so, stop on exactly that day. Stopping is not quitting, it is knowing this does not suit you right now.

And if you cannot bear talking to strangers, that is fine too. Another way to be near others without words: sit in a familiar cafe and watch people go by, or walk ten minutes with nowhere to go. What matters is a day with someone in it, and who that someone is does not matter.

The Wednesday of the next week, I stood at the top of the market again. Nobody made me, no challenge was running. I only wanted to stop by for two limes.

She looked up and gave one nod.

When to seek professional support

This article is a small challenge about going to the market and saying a few words to the sellers. It cannot replace treatment, and I am not promising the feeling of being alone will disappear after seven days.

But here are a few signs you should bring to a professional, rather than carrying them alone:

• The sense of being alone lasts for weeks, and you no longer want to see anyone, even people you were once close to.
• You feel so uneasy that you cannot leave the house for several days in a row, even to buy food.
• Your sleep or eating has been thrown off for a long stretch, and you feel unable to do the ordinary things of the day.
• You think about hurting yourself, even if it is just a passing thought

The last point cannot wait. Speak with someone you trust, today. The Emergency Support page explains what holds true in moments like that.

Seeing a professional is an ordinary way of looking after yourself, like going to the doctor when something feels off.